


on the brink

by softshelltaako



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Feelings, Hurt, Major Character Injury, Near Death, basically just taako suffering and magnus stressing over it, merle is really minor im sorry churchdad ily, sry im always so vague i promise ill write explicit taagnus eventually, taagnus if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-28 21:57:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11427027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softshelltaako/pseuds/softshelltaako
Summary: that scene in episode 53 (ch. 3 of the suffering game) where taako gets comically crushed except way more angsty and dramatic





	on the brink

Taako is the only one who hears the bolt clink softly against the ground. However, everyone else surely picks up on the ominous creak and ensuing crash as a massive hunk of metal plating tumbles from the ceiling to land solidly atop the wizard's frozen form.

Magnus feels his blood run cold with only time for a brief glance in his companion's direction. The sight is momentary but no less horrendous, Taako's thin hands flexed in what is surely agony as they poke out from beneath the mess of machinery. He barely has time to take in the fact that Taako may very well be dead before another deafening smash sounds out. He thinks the metal has settled further, completely flattening Taako under its weight, and his stomach turns with nausea before he realizes that the elf is gone. Belatedly, his brain makes the connection that Taako had blearily cried something a second ago - _Blink_ , probably - his voice thick with either shock or something more concerning, something along the lines of internal bleeding, and Magnus can't let that train of thought go too far or he fears he may lose his composure.

Not that composure is exactly topping the list of things he has under control at the moment. The fighter can feel his hands trembling uselessly around Railsplitter, the weapon bouncing in his white-knuckled grip. _This is bad_ , his brain registers, and that thought does absolutely fuckall for him as it runs rampant, frantic circles through his mind. He forces himself to hunker down, widening his stance and bracing at the sound of the crackling bear's ferocious roar. Taako is notorious for slipping out of the clutches of danger. Death could never stop something so haughty, so confident, so completely uncaring.

Still, he can't get the image of those thin hands out of his mind, small and fragile and disconcertingly out of place under that mess of gears and wires and steel.

Taako, meanwhile, can't lie - he's had much better days. Even in the ethereal plane, he's struggling to hold it together, taking a moment to gasp in a ragged breath. The oxygen burns his lungs and he has no doubt that there's a broken bone or two somewhere in there. _Just his fucking luck_ , he thinks bitterly. _The one time Taako has no choice but to rush in and look where it gets him. He needs to leave this hero shit to Magnus._ The whole act of breathing requires much more conscious thought than it should, shallow and burdensome and filled with sharp stabs of pain that prod roughly at his consciousness and cloud his thoughts.

Distantly, he hears the electric bear roar, knows he should figure out what to do next, should be thinking strategically, managing his spell slots, but Istus above, all he wants to do is lie down. His knees nearly buckle with the effort of stumbling forward and away from that damned hunk of junk. In the distance, wispy forms steal one last curious peek at him before skittering out of his field of vision, hiding away at the shadowy edges of what he can perceive on this plane. He tries to take a breath to steady himself and something in his chest gurgles. It's a disconnected sort of idea that tells him that might be blood, and then he can taste iron on his tongue and smell it in his nose and very faintly feel it trickle down towards his lip. For some reason, he cringes inwardly at the thought of anyone seeing him like this. This hellish place may annihilate everything they cherish, but he refuses to let it leech away any of his radiant beauty.

He tries to laugh, his reflexive response to any sort of peril, but his body protests horribly, clutching his chest at another harsh pang of agony. Fate has never been particularly _kind_ to them, but couldn't she cut him a break just this once? _No_ , he thinks, _of course not, because none of these fucking relics come without a cost._ For whatever reason, their little band of misfits is the patron forever doomed to pay the price.

When Taako blinks back into their reality, it takes all of his strength to remain standing, groaning with the shock of the spell. Magnus nearly heaves out a sigh of relief, but the sensation is short-lived as he truly takes in the wizard's state. Yeah, no, that's... Not good. Not at all. He watches Taako's entire body shake like a tree in a storm, one arm wrapped around his midsection. Each breath makes his brow furrow in concentration. There are stains of blood beginning to soak through his clothes, the wounds causing the offending marks shielded from view but horrifically concerning regardless. Magnus aches to toss his weapon and run to him, shield the elf in his arms until the whole ordeal is over, or at the very least shove him behind himself for some semblance of protection. Taako doesn't look like he can stand a strong breeze right now, much less legitimate combat.

However, as he is known to do, Taako proves him wrong. Despite the stains, the shivering, the evident pull of gravity on his worn-out body that is begging him to collapse, the wizard's face is stoic and cold. He shows no sign of backing down, no hints of emotional exhaustion. When his arm raises, it's steady and firm, like an act of rebellion against his own body, and his voice - it's hoarse with lack of breath, and there's something wet and thick beneath it, but he sounds confident. Strong. Like Taako. When he summons a battering storm of hail and ice, his whole body jerks with the effort, but his face remains unchanged save for the stream of blood dripping steadily from his nose down to his chin. Taako doesn't even pause to wipe it away.

Magnus has never admired him more.

It all seems like seconds - possibly because it _is_ \- wherein the bear is frozen in a block of ice and Merle begins to yell at in in a series of mangled roars. Magnus even gets in a swing before Taako crumples to the ground in the corner of his eye. Watching him fall is horrible, a paper doll collapsing in on its own weight. It takes only another few seconds for Magnus to abandon Railsplitter with a shout and clear the gap between them, but this time it feels like years.

Years and years and years where he's forced to watch Taako's limp, bloodstained body hit the ground because he isn't fast enough, doesn't react soon enough, is too busy gloating over a victory sealed by the wizard himself to just go to him. Taako lands facedown, and the concealment of his face prompts a hundred sickening images in Magnus's panic-seized brain - the whites of eyes rolled back, streams of blood running from a familiar pointed nose, lips tainted with the same nauseating scarlet. Distantly, he hears Merle cast a healing spell, but his anxiety makes him pessimistic and he doubts it will do much of anything. His hands hesitate when he falls to his knees beside Taako, hovering over the discouragingly still body - _corpse_ \- no, he can't be dead, he doesn't know that yet, won't know until he checks. He takes the deepest breath he can manage before laying a hand gingerly on his companion's shoulder, turning him over into his own lap.

As the spell works its magic, he sees eyelids flutter weakly, framed in lashes just as long and perfect as always, regardless of the pained tears gathering at the edges of them. Even with blood bubbling in his mouth, Magnus sees his chest rising and falling, albeit rapidly and weakly. _But that's enough_ , he reminds himself, allowing a moment of relief as he curls his arms around the elf. He's _alive_. They all are, somehow.

And then there's a wicked stab of pain that all three feel in the same spot at the center of their chests at the same time and Taako's body seizes up, a horrible cry spilling from his lips. It spatters blood over Magnus's face, something he barely registers because Taako has folded in half, trembling hands pressed against his mouth as he coughs into them. It's wet and heavy and through the gaps in his fingers escape sprays of scarlet, warm against Magnus's skin. They barely hear the two pleased playmakers speaking to them in disembodied voices, explaining the overarching ban on healing within Wonderland's walls. Magnus is too busy watching Taako, and Taako is too busy trying to choke down the wet coughs racking his entire body. Merle simply stares at the ceiling with an expression that portrays a pitiful mix of worry and frustration.

It's a miserable scene, and there is one long moment while Taako is gasping on his own blood filling his lungs where the three all fear they won't make it past this room as a unit. Magnus quietly tangles the fingers of one of Taako's bloodstained hands in his own, leaning close and speaking in a murmur the elf only half hears. Words spill into his ringing ears, encouragements, endearments, some meant to inspire, some meant to comfort, some even bordering on tearful. Taako allows himself the reprieve of burying his face against Magnus's throat, ragged breaths no doubt flecking blood onto the skin. The shaking doesn't die down, even as the coughing does, and time passes at a crawl. Taako knows he shouldn't move like this. Magnus knows they've reached a dead end. Merle fears that might be a more literal sentiment than his friend intends.

But because they are duty-bound, and because there are no other options, the fighter eventually climbs to his feet with Taako in arms, the wizard muffling a miserable sound behind one tattered sleeve. His arms flutter indecisively for a moment, torn between clutching his middle and hanging on to Magnus's neck. He eventually decides on the latter, and his transport offers a gruff sound as he briefly presses his face into the elf's tattered hair. Silence hangs temporarily in the air, steadying and still, like the pause just before an attack. Then their cleric joins at the side, and the battered trio sets off once more to tackle whatever waits beyond.

**Author's Note:**

> awaken awaken and giveth me the bacon
> 
> sorry everything i write is always so diggedy darn sad idk what my deal is. i've had this idea for like three and a half months so here it is i guess??? not exactly how i planned it and i dunno if im happy with it but when am i ever so here take this thing. this suffer pile has me itchin to write some good ol happy taagnus though so maybe ill get around to that soon.
> 
> anyway, thanks for reading! as always, feel free to comment any requests or suggestions. hit me up on twitter ( @shirosprincess ) if you ever wanna yell about TAZ or any of my other obsessions
> 
> [fingerguns]


End file.
